


Just A Hint

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 2x16 spoilers, Canon Compliant, F/M, Jemma's POV, Missing Scene, The Sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons has very little time to make a very important sandwich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Hint

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr the morning after the episode aired, so you may have seen it there. 
> 
> Missing scene from 2x16 "Afterlife."

“Hungry?”

Jemma jumped slightly at the sound of Bobbi’s voice, breathing in deep before turning around with a smile. “Bobbi, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Just grabbing some water.” Bobbi crossed the kitchen to pull a glass out of the high cabinets, filling it up at the refrigerator. “Is that… pesto?”

Jemma turned back to the ingredients on the counter in front of her, spooning a small amount of pesto into the mixture and beginning to stir. “I can’t think  _nearly_  as well when I’m hungry. And this is an old favorite.” She didn’t say  _whose_  old favorite.

“Ah. Well, eat up, then. The sooner we can figure this out…” Bobbi trailed off, offering Jemma a tight smile before moving to leave. She turned around at the doorway, a hand on the frame. “Hey Jemma… it’ll be okay. Once we get everything sorted out… maybe he can come back.”

Jemma placed the pesto spoon in the sink and nodded, looking down. “Yeah. Maybe.”

A moment later, she heard Bobbi’s soft footsteps echoing down the hall and breathed out in relief. She quickly resumed her task– she didn’t want to get walked in on again. She spread the aioli mixture thinly along the bread she’d already sliced– just a hint– then carefully layered on the mozzarella and sliced prosciutto. Then, for good measure, a layer of arugula– Fitz never did eat enough greens.

With a quick glance at the door– were those footsteps she heard?– she finished assembling the sandwich and debated slicing it. She didn’t know where he would end up once he could finally eat it, if it would be a place conducive to eating a sandwich in one go. No, she decided, cutting it in half would be better, just in case he needed to save a portion.

She wrapped each section in the white paper she’d found in a drawer, eyes scanning the countertop for the length of string she’d pilfered from a lab shipment. It would have to do.

Once each segment was neatly tied with string– bows, not knots, as they’d be easier to untie– she wrapped the whole sandwich together in more of the white paper and taped it closed.

“There,” she said with a smile, patting the finished sandwich where it sat on the counter. She pulled the black Sharpie marker that she’d brought out of her pocket and uncapped it, pen poised to write Fitz’s name on the pristine paper, then frowned. That wasn’t very personal.

She pulled open the drawer where she’d found the paper– she thought she’d seen a few smaller sheets of brown paper in there as well. Once she located it, she quickly cut out a rectangle and began to write.

 _Proscuitto & mozzarella_, she wrote neatly, so he would know without a doubt what this sandwich was. She hoped he would see it as more than just a snack– his  _favorite_ sandwich. The one she used to make for him when things were better between them. She wanted him to see in it everything she couldn’t say to him, especially since she didn’t know how long it might be until they saw each other again.

A shiver ran through her at that thought. She knew this needed to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier to think of him out there, taking risks, all alone. She pressed her lips together and began to write again.

 _Be safe._  But was that too ominous? What if he took it to mean that she didn’t have enough faith in him to know he’d be alright? She bit her lip, then added a short black line–  _Be safe!_  Much more positive.

She wondered if she should sign her name. She knew that he’d know who it was from– after all, no one in the world made pesto aioli quite as well as she did. But she needed him to understand. It wasn’t just a “good luck” sandwich, given to a coworker about to go on a dangerous mission. It was more than that. It was a  _feelings_  sandwich.

Taking a deep breath, eyes darting to the doorway, she poised her pen over the brown paper.  _Jemma_  by itself didn’t quite seem like enough.  _–Jemma? From, Jemma? Sincerely, Jemma?_   None of those sounded right either.

She knew what she wanted to write. She just didn’t know if she had the nerve.

“She was in the kitchen, last I checked,” came Bobbi’s muffled voice down the hall. Jemma’s eyes widened. She heard Gonzales say something indiscernible and knew that she had to hurry.

Jemma stared down at the paper for precisely 2.7 seconds, then let out a whoosh of breath and went for it.  _Love, Jemma._ She scrambled to affix the note to the sandwich and looked around frantically for something to put it in. She couldn’t let them see the note.

Her eyes landed on an oven mitt as the footfalls got louder. She was out of time. She slid the wrapped sandwich into the mitt and clutched it to her just as Bobbi and Gonzales entered the kitchen.

“We were just looking for you,” said Gonzales from the doorway. “I was hoping you might have made more progress, but you were nowhere to be found in the lab.”

“And _I_  was hoping I’d be allowed adequate time to eat.”

Gonzales remained stone-faced. “Of course. We’ll be in the lab when you’re ready to resume.” He turned and left, his cane clicking on the stone floor. Bobbi lingered, gaze dropping to the potholder in Jemma’s hand.

“I’m just going to go give this to Fitz while he packs. He brought it from home,” she added, holding it up and walking quickly toward the door. Bobbi narrowed her eyes, but moved aside to let Jemma pass.

Just as Jemma crossed the threshold to leave, Bobbi called out her name.

Jemma froze.

When she turned around, trying her best to maintain her calm facade, Bobbi was holding out one hand, the Grumpy Cat coffee mug dangling from her index finger by its handle. “This is his, too, right?”

After a beat, Jemma nodded quickly, taking the mug from Bobbi and turning again to leave. She just hoped Fitz had plenty of room left in his bag.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
